One day in the year 3051, in a bustling college classroom. Students chatted quietly, some scrolling through holo-screens, others lazily doodling in notebooks. The air was filled with the hum of anticipation for the new term.
At the front of the class, a poised figure stepped in — confident, calm, and with a mysterious aura.
Teacher: "Good morning, everyone. I'm Crista, your new class teacher. You've been here for months, so I'm guessing you know your way around… at least, a little."
The moment Crista smiled, the classroom door burst open with a loud bang. Papers fluttered, and everyone turned sharply. Breathless, Draxil and Adrik stumbled inside.
Chrono Guardianz
Episode :10 Back to Future
Adrik (panting): "Sir… we're late… because—"
They stopped mid-sentence when their eyes landed on the teacher. Silence. Then a few snickers from the back row.
Adrik: "Uh… wait… you're not our teacher, are you?"
Crista (smirking): "Not exactly. But from today onward… I am. Consider me your new favorite nightmare."
Draxil: "Wait… what happened to Sir Lortho?"
Crista: "Ah… he decided it was time to retire. Thought it was the perfect time to disappear… and I agreed."
Draxil (shocked): "Retire? WHAT? Did he… die?"
Crista (raising an eyebrow): "Nooo. He's probably sipping tea somewhere, far away from your nonsense. Retirement suits him. You, on the other hand… not so much."
The class burst into laughter. Adrik rolled his eyes while Draxil glared.
Crista: "Alright, class, enough chatter. Take your seats. And yes, Draxil and Adrik… no more dramatic entrances. First day, and I'm letting it slide… but don't make me regret it."
Reluctantly, they took their seats. As they settled, the camera shifted toward the last row. Sitting cool and composed, Colt leaned back, arms crossed, with a faint smirk.
Colt: "Heard that. Tomorrow is our big tournament."
Adrik: "Like I care." (slams book shut dramatically)
Colt (grinning): "Of course. That's what they all say… until they lose. And tomorrow, the trophy is mine. Guaranteed."
Adrik (mocking): "Overconfident much? You only won last time because we didn't bother showing up."
Colt: "Exactly. And you still lost in spirit. My point stands."
Draxil placed a hand on Adrik's shoulder, smirking.
Draxil: "We'll see about that tomorrow."
Later that evening, Adrik and Draxil walked home, the setting sun painting the sky orange. Adrik kicked a pebble so hard it flew into a bush.
Adrik (gritting his teeth): Man, I wanna smash that jerk's face tomorrow. He struts around like he's some hero, like the most powerful guy alive. It makes me sick.
Draxil (shrugging, smiling calmly): I know. But don't stress. We'll beat him tomorrow. Just relax… and smile like me.
Adrik froze. His eyes slowly slid toward Draxil's face. Draxil was smiling sweetly, almost like a saint.
Adrik (horrified, pointing): Who… who are you? The Draxil I know never smiles like that.
Draxil (confused): What do you mean? This is the real me.
Adrik (grabbing his shoulders, whispering dramatically): It's okay, Draxil. We're alone. No one is watching. You don't have to keep pretending.
For a moment, silence. Then, Draxil's face turned beet red. His veins popped. He let out a growl like a wild beast and suddenly bit the strap of his school bag like a rabid wolf.
Draxil (muffled through the bag): Aaaaarghhhh! That arrogant jerk! He thinks he's the hero? I'll tear him apart tomorrow!
Adrik burst into laughter at the sight, but quickly clenched his fists and grew serious. He extended his hand.
Adrik: No matter what… tomorrow, we win.
Draxil slapped his hand against Adrik's, their grip tight with determination.
Draxil: Together.
Their voices rang with fiery resolve, their shadows stretching long across the fading sunlight. Tomorrow, the clash wasn't just about a tournament. It was about pride, vengeance, and proving once and for all… who truly deserved the spotlight.
Next day at the competition place, a huge plain area opened up like a battlefield. Around it, tens of thousands of students were seated, buzzing with excitement. A giant transparent shield surrounded the plain to protect the watchers from stray moves. The air was filled with shouting and cheers, and a giant holo-screen above showed live updates.
The scoreboard glowed brightly: Blue Team — 7 points, Green Team — 9 points, Red Team — 13 points.
Adrik and Draxil stood at the edge of the arena, eyes twitching slightly as they looked over at their injured teammates lying scattered on the ground. Some groaned in pain, others just stared blankly. But both of them stayed composed, hiding worry behind determined faces.
Then they looked toward the Green Team. Even though every member of the Green Team bore injuries — cuts, bruises, missing armor pieces — they were still standing tall, ready for the next match. Their eyes burned with stubborn willpower.
Then the camera shifted to the Red Team. Colt stood in front of his seven teammates with his usual cold, unreadable expression. His sharp gaze swept the battlefield like a blade. He wasn't smiling — no, he looked like he was calculating every move. The scoreboard behind them confirmed: they were ahead, but Colt didn't look satisfied.
Adrik and Draxil turned back toward their team. One of their teammates, almost in good condition, limped toward them.
Teammate: "Adrik… Draxil… where were you? We—"
Adrik (cutting him off): "First, why are we last? Red team just needs 7 more points and they win everything."
Teammate (nervously): "Y-yeah… but they're stronger. It's because of Colt's big brothers."
Draxil (under his breath): "That Rex… I'm gonna kill him."
The scene shifted to the Red Team's side. There, behind Colt, stood a tall, muscular man — Rex. His presence alone silenced his team. His gaze was cold, and he didn't speak. The seven Red Team members instinctively sat straighter. Goosebumps ran down their spines.
Back to Blue Team.
Teammate: "Rex is… something else. But this time… Colt and Rex's younger brother also joined the match — Axel."
Adrik and Draxil exchanged confused looks.
Draxil: "What?"
Adrik: "Colt has another brother? How many brothers does he have?"
In the Red Team, just beside Rex, stood a young man. Not too young — maybe eighteen. He wore a calm, playful smile that was completely different from the coldness of Colt and the silence of Rex. He didn't rush in, didn't even look tense. He just stood there watching.
Back to the Blue Team. Draxil and Adrik changed their gear quietly, preparing themselves.
Teammate: "Be careful… Axel is fast and strong… maybe even stronger than Colt and Rex."
Draxil: "Don't worry about us. Just heal yourself and the others."
After some time, a strong figure stepped into the arena — the Green Team's strongest fighter. His presence made whispers travel through the crowd like wind. Blue Team members exchanged uneasy looks. Red Team sat silently, Colt's expression unreadable, Rex scanning every corner of the arena, and Axel — leaning back casually — simply watched with a grin, not too excited but enjoying the moment.
Blue Team's teammates looked around nervously, then spotted Adrik walking toward the ground in full gear, his sword shining under the arena lights.
One teammate hurried toward him.
Teammate 1: "Adrik… be careful. He's fast… we can't even predict his moves."
Adrik (smirking): "Don't worry… I got this."
The teammate nodded and went to sit down, leaving Adrik and Draxil at the edge.
Draxil (low voice): "I know you're faster than me… but be careful. Don't kill him. If you do, we might get disqualified."
Adrik grinned, showing a bit of mischief. Then he stepped into the arena.
The crowd fell silent. Blue Team members exchanged worried looks. The scoreboard blinked — Blue 7, Green 9, Red 13. Many were whispering that Adrik might lose this one.
The referee blew the whistle. But surprisingly, the opponent didn't move. Adrik also stood still, eyeing him carefully. The silence made tension thicken.
Opponent (calmly): "Hmm… so you're not dumb."
He stepped forward slowly, keeping distance from Adrik.
Opponent: "I thought you'd rush to me… like your teammates did before. But… this time, I'll rush."
The flash of steel and heavy breaths filled the arena. The opponent gripped his sword tighter, his steps pounding the plain ground like war drums. Without warning, he charged at Adrik with deadly speed, each step kicking dust into the air. He didn't rush headlong—he circled around Adrik like a predator stalking prey, every movement calculated, every second stretching. Adrik didn't move. His eyes closed, chest rising and falling as he took a deep breath. The crowd leaned forward, silent with anticipation.
Opponent (thinking): Idiot… he thinks he can vanish. Now is my chance.
The opponent roared, lunging forward with a fierce strike aimed at Adrik's head. The air whistled as steel sliced through it. But then—flash.
In an instant, Adrik was gone. Time seemed to slow. The sound of the crowd muted. Dust hung frozen in the air. The opponent's eyes widened in shock.
Opponent (thinking): What the—
His sword cut through empty air. The opponent spun around, his breath loud in the silence, but all he saw was dust. And then—behind him—a shadow moved.
With a crisp thud, Adrik slammed the back of his sword against the opponent's skull. The sound echoed like thunder, and the opponent crumpled to the ground, unconscious before hitting it. The blade hummed softly as Adrik lowered it slowly, dust falling off his shoulders.
Adrik stood tall, sword resting on his shoulder, breathing steady. His hair was a little messy, but his stance was perfect—calm, collected, like a predator after the kill. Smoke swirled around him, drifting away to reveal the silent crowd staring in awe. The scoreboard blinked—this round was over.
The referee's whistle cut through the air sharply. Adrik's teammates rushed toward him, clapping him on the back and shouting praises. Draxil leaned back with a small smile, almost smug, knowing exactly how it would end.
The arena shifted focus—the next match was ready. From the red team's side, a massive figure stepped forward, hammer in hand. Draxil adjusted his stance calmly, his eyes locked on the opponent. The air was tense, electric.
The referee blew the whistle. The opponent charged with a deep roar, his heavy boots pounding the ground. He swung the hammer with crushing force. Draxil sidestepped, light on his feet, letting the hammer crash into empty air. The crowd gasped at the speed of the move.
The opponent's face twisted with anger. He screamed and charged again, swinging with even greater power. Draxil's smirk widened.
As the hammer came down like a wrecking blow, Draxil didn't dodge far—he stepped forward. His fist shot out in a single clean motion, connecting with the opponent's jaw with bone-cracking impact. The sound echoed like a gunshot. The opponent's knees buckled. He stumbled, lost control, and with one heavy thud was thrown outside the arena.
A sharp whistle signaled the end of the round. The crowd erupted in loud cheers for Draxil. He turned calmly, walking back toward his team. His teammates gathered around him, clapping his shoulders, while Rex stood a little apart, his eyes sharp and calculating. He studied Draxil carefully, as if measuring his strength.
The arena buzzed with anticipation for the next fight. From the blue team's side, a new warrior stepped forward, his gear shining under the arena lights. On the other side, Colt strode toward the arena with his cold expression fixed. But just as he stepped forward, Rex's hand came down firmly on his shoulder, halting him.
The crowd hushed, sensing tension even before the next match began.
Rex: Let me handle that one.
Colt said nothing. His gaze was fixed forward, expression unreadable. Without a word, he shifted slightly aside, letting Rex step into the arena. The air thickened with tension. Dust swirled beneath Rex's boots as he moved forward with calm precision.
Across the arena, the opponent trembled visibly, his hands shaking as they gripped his weapon. His breath came fast, ragged, betraying his fear. He stared at Rex, trying to muster courage, but Rex's unblinking stare froze him in place.
The referee's whistle blew sharply.
Before the man could even blink, Rex closed the distance in an instant. His fist moved like lightning, a blur of power and precision. The punch landed with a sound like a hammer hitting steel—bone-crushing and final. The force sent the opponent flying out of the arena with a thud.
The opponent hit the ground hard, his head striking the floor with a sickening crack. Blood poured from a wound above his brow, mixing with the dust. Both his arms hung uselessly, broken from trying to block Rex's strike. The referee blew the whistle again—the match was over.
Rex stood still for a heartbeat, letting the silence speak volumes. Then he turned, walking back to his team with slow, deliberate steps. His presence radiated dominance.
Adrik and Draxil rushed toward the fallen fighter, joined by doctors and nurses. They worked quickly, checking his condition. He was alive but unconscious.
Adrik's eyes narrowed sharply as they flicked from Rex to the injured guy and back again. His fists clenched tight, knuckles whitening with silent anger. Draxil's expression was unreadable.
A few matches later, the scoreboard flashed: Red team and Blue team tied at 15 points. Green team had been disqualified—every member injured beyond the limit. The crowd roared with excitement, the air charged with tension.
This time, Adrik stepped into the arena. His boots echoed across the stone floor as he paused, scanning the opposing side. He watched the Red team intently, his eyes locking on who would enter.
Rex, sighs heavily, but before he could stand fully, a voice rang out.
Axel: Let me have this.
Axel rose from his seat with fluid confidence. His movements were slow but deliberate. He stretched his arms upward and drew his sword, the metal catching the light and gleaming sharply. His grin was wide, confident, almost taunting.
Rex exhaled quietly, a sharp nod to Axel before sinking back into his seat.
Axel stepped into the arena with measured calm, the air seeming to shift around him. The crowd fell silent—an unspoken tension gripping the entire stadium. Two undefeated fighters were about to clash.
The referee blew the whistle, breaking the silence.
Axel pointed his sword directly at Adrik, his grin widening as he spoke.
Axel: So… what are you waiting for?
Adrik's gaze locked with Axel's. A slow breath left him, steadying himself. His hand gripped his sword tightly, the steel shimmering in the arena lights. A small smile formed at his lips—calm, confident, and ready.
The crowd held their breath as the two warriors squared off, the air between them crackling like a storm about to break.
TO BE CONTINUED...